


Language X: To the Future, to the Horizon

by Whitehat2018



Series: New Mutants: Children of the Atom [5]
Category: New Mutants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitehat2018/pseuds/Whitehat2018
Summary: In order to try and shake Sam out of his depression, Doug reaches back to a shared interest of theirs and takes him to a con in Georgia.  Two old friends go on a journey of self-discovery and learn that the force that binds them together is mighty indeed...Note: Set between New X-Men #3 and #4.





	1. Chapter 1: Always in motion

_Miami_.

               Doug paced out on the balcony, holding a phone to his ear.  An afternoon rain splashed off the canopy.  “Bobby, he’s done nothing but lie around and listen to sad country songs since we _got here_.  If I hear ‘He Stopped Loving Her Today’ one more time, when you get back I’ll be able to tell you if Sam actually _is_ immortal.”

               “It’s not that bad,”  Bobby said, over the phone.

               _‘He placed a wreath upon his dooooOOOoooorrrr…!  Soon they’ll carrrrrry him awaaaaaay~’_

Doug squeezed his eyes shut.  “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!”

               “Hey, look – I’d be there to babysit, but I’m about to go into a tank for the weekend while Dr. Ho tries out this new rejuvenation treatment.”  Bobby sighed.  “Where are the girls?”

               “Rahne, Xi’an, Amara, and Illyana all got fed up and bounced.  Dani and Sam still aren’t talking, so she’s giving him a wide berth—”

               “…And Warlock?”  Bobby asked.

               “…Went with the girls.”  Doug said.  “Turns out sad George Jones songs make him cry _incessantly_.”

               “Well then it’s just you, Doug of War.  And you know our new rule.”  Bobby said.

               “A bro never cries alone, a bro never dies alone.”  Doug said, with a sigh.  “I’m not saying his grief isn’t legitimate, you know?  It’s just…”

               Sam’s voice floated through the door, overlaying the Possum’s.  _“Soon they’ll CARRY HIM AWAAAAAAAAAY~”_

               “…Getting on my nerves.”  Doug threw a dirty look at the door.

               “Well, do something to take his mind off it!”  Bobby said.

               “ _Like what!?”_ Doug said, pacing back and forth in front of the door.

               “Something fun!”  Bobby said.  “You know Sam—”

               “I know, I know… mister serious until he has a chance to party without having to babysit.”  Doug pinched the bridge of his nose.  “He’s not gonna want to do anything.”  Doug riffled through his phone.  “Concerts?  No.  Bars?  _No_.  There isn’t—”  He paused. “…Wait.”  He looked toward the door.  “Would he go for it?”

               “What, what is _it_?”  Bobby said.

               “There’s a big convention in Atlanta.  A _ton_ of his favorite authors are going to be there.  Mine too, for that matter—”  Doug skimmed the con’s site with the brush of a finger.

               “…Sounds nerdy.”  Bobby said.

               “Tom Selleck’s going to be there.”  Doug said, a wry tone creeping into his voice.

               “DOUG OH MY GOD DOUG ARE YOU SERIOUS GET ME HIS AUTOGRAPH—”

               Doug held the phone away from his ear.  “You’ve already got his autograph!  You’ve got a bunch of them.”

               “Not the point!”  Bobby said. “Bro, don’t leave me hanging.  I have to spend the weekend in a tube full of goo and you get to shake Tom Selleck’s hand.  Bro.  _Bro_.”

               Doug grinned, slightly.  “Sam won’t take the bait, anyway.  At least, I don’t think he will.”

               “No, he’ll jump for it.”  Bobby said.  “…Just tell him you want to spend a few days with him.  You’ll see.  Okay, I have to go into this tank of warm gel – gotta go!”  The call ended.

               Doug lowered his phone, and listened to the strains of a mournful steel guitar coming from inside of the apartment.  “…He’ll never go for it.”

_Later:_

               Sam lifted Doug’s suitcase into the trunk of the car, and then slammed it shut.  He paused, with his hands on it, and said “It’s awful nice of you to volunteer to spend the weekend with me.  Lately I’ve been thinkin’ everyone’s been avoidin’ me ‘cept Bobby.”

               Doug was sitting in the passenger’s seat of the car, his legs hanging out the open door.  He gave a forced smile.  “What?  Avoiding you?  No…”  He paused, for a beat.  “No…”

               “Well I ain’t got your superpower,”  Sam said, “But I can read that one.”  He put his hand on his face.  “I know I’m a mess, Doug.  Wouldn’t you be?”  He looked at his feet.  “Wife walks out on you, she won’t tell you why.  Still ain’t heard word one about what’s gonna happen with m’boy.”

               Doug let out a sigh.  “She’s not going to keep him away from you Sam.  You’re a great father… and – the nose knows, okay?”  He extended a hand toward Sam, but then faltered, and let it drop.  “…It sucks.”

               “Yeah.”  Sam said, clenching his hands into fists.  “It’s like a knot in my stomach that won’t unclench.  I wake over in the morning, reach for her, she ain’t there.  My first thought’s about getting’ Joshie breakfast… he ain’t there.”

               Doug considered this.  “I know how you feel… objectively.  But I’m not some guru, Sam.  What I don’t know how to do is help you.”

               “Maybe there ain’t a way to help me, Doug.  Maybe I just gotta live with it, and live through it.”  Sam said.  “Though right now, I don’t see how.  Hurts worse than when Sauron gutted me, little bro.  It hurts worse than when the Hulk slapped me, worse than the times I took a header into the Juggernaut.”

               Doug winced.  “…If we take a straight shot up the Florida Turnpike and the Interstate, it’s a ten hour car ride.”  He looked over to Sam.  “I’ve planned another route that stretches it out.  We’d see more of the countryside… it’d take longer.”  Doug gave a shrug.  “We could spend some time together, on the road—not cramped in an apartment.  We’d still get there in plenty of time.”

               Sam paused.  “…All right.”  He says.  “Let’s do some driving.  You take the first shift, though—I kinda just wanna feel the wind in my hair a little bit, watch the world go by.  You know?”  Sam put on a pair of sunglasses.  “Let’s drive.”

               Later, as they drove, Sam looked up.  “…Hey Doug.”  He said.  “Do you remember the night Warlock invaded the school?”

               Doug kept one hand on the wheel, his elbow resting on the edge of the open wheel as he drove.  “Do I?”  He said, the corner of his mouth curving up into a grin, “I remember it like it was yesterday!  You don’t forget a night like that, Sam…” 

_A Lifetime Ago:_

               _Tink, tink… tink._

               Doug’s eyelids fluttered, and he rolled over.  He squinted at his alarm clock, which read 12:00 in dull red.  With a grunt, Doug rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, and began to doze.

               _Tink, tink, tink, TINK—_

               Doug cracked one eye.

               A pebble struck the window by bed, and then another.

               “What in the world—”  Doug swung his legs off the bed, got up, and wrenched open the screen.  He leaned out—

               And found himself staring down at Sam, who stood with a handful of pebbles, hand cocked back to fling another.  He was wearing nothing but a towel, knotted snug around his waist.  Even as lanky as he was, Sam was all muscle, and his arm practiced as he flexed it back to throw another stone.  When Doug leaned out he stopped and tossed the pebbles aside.  “Dougie!”  He called.  “Thank th’ lord.  Ya gotta come with me!”

               Doug squinted.  After a moment, he spoke.  “…Wat.”

               Sam sighed.  “Look.  Ah really don’t got time to explain.  We need yer help at th’ school.”  He paused.  “You comin’?’

               “Sam…”  Doug said, “If my parents were to wake up right now, they’d see me leaning out my window in the middle of the night talking to a boy in nothing but a towel.  They’d have a lot of _really awkward_ questions.  But I just have one— _what the hell are you talking about and why are you outside my window at one in the morning in nothing but a towel?_ ”

               Sam winced.  “Look.  You’ll get answers, but you gotta take me on faith lil’ bro.  Just climb down an’ Ah’ll fly us both back to the school—”

               Doug held up a hand.  “Wait.”  He hissed, “ _Waaiiiiiiiiiiit wait wait wait._   _Fly?_ ”

               Sam winced.  “Yeah.  Fly.  You’ll see.”

               Doug went back inside.  “Mom and dad are gonna kill me if they find out I snuck out in the middle of the night.”

               “We got you covered.  You snuck out for a party up at the school, totally innocent.  _Please_ , Doug.  It’s life or death!  You can eat bein’ grounded for a month for this.”

               A moment later, Doug leaned out the window and threw something at Sam.  “Put these on.”  He had dressed in a hurry, pulling on a button-down shirt and pants, and jammed his feet into a pair of sneakers.  He began to climb down the trellis outside his window.  “How the heck did you know which window was mine anyway, Sam?”

               “Rescue plan.”  Sam said.  He bent down and picked up a pair of blue briefs.  “What—”

               Doug hit the ground.  “Put them on.”

               “Put on your underwear?”  Sam said.

               “Sam.”  Doug said.  “Listen.  Buddy.  You’re one stiff breeze away from me getting to know you _real well_.  Please… I’m taking you on faith.  _Put them on_.”

               Sam flushed, and then said, “Hold on.”  He bent, and put the briefs on, before he winced.  “A little snug.”

               “That’s because you weigh a good thirty pounds more than me.  But believe me, it’s better than the alternative.  Okay.  So I assume you have a helicopter hidden on the other side of mom’s rue hedge?”  Doug looked toward it, as if expecting to actually find one.

               Sam stroked his chin.  “Not exactly.  Come on, we gotta go off the beaten path a bit or Ah’ll wake up everybody in the neighborhood.”

               Doug shot Sam a suspicious look.  “ _O-kay…”_   As they set off, Doug said, “So why don’t you explain what this life or death problem is?  And – taking you on faith, remember – why in the world do you need _me?”_ He paused.  “…And why do you have a rescue plan that involved knowing where my bedroom was?  This is _really weird_ , Sam.  …The bad weird.”

               “Okay.”  Sam says.  “First of all… everything Ah’m telling you is true.  Okay?”

               Doug sqinted.  “Okay.”

               “Ah mean it.”  Sam said.  “Completely true.  Swear t’ god.”

               “Go on.”  Doug said, his voice dry and flat.

               “…A space alien’s invaded the school.”  Sam said.

               Doug stopped, and swore at Sam, and made to turn around.

               Sam stopped, and shot his hand out, and grabbed Doug’s arm.  “Hey!” 

               “This is the meanest, most complicated prank ever.”  Doug said.  “Bobby put you up to this.  This is some sort of twisted prank to convince me of something completely ridiculous—”

               “Hey man, the Avengers fight crazy stuff all the time!”  Sam said, keeping his hold on Doug’s arm.  “This ain’t so far-fetched.”

               Doug stopped.  “Well, there’s a difference, but… taking you on faith, if the Predator’s invaded the school, _what good could I possibly do?_ ”

               “First, it’s more like the Thing from Another World.  And, well…”  Sam said, “…We’ve been keepin’ a secret from you.”  Sam paused, at the edge of the treeline, and let out a sigh.  “You know how you’re kinna a prodigy, little buddy?  Good with computers an’ you pick up languages like that?”  He snapped his fingers.

               “…Yeah?”  Doug said.

               “Well…”  Sam rubbed the back of his neck.  “…You’re a mutant.”

               Doug paused, and then swore again.

               Sam winced.  “Hey!  Watch the language!”

               “You’re telling me I’m a Mutie because I tested out of AP Spanish.”  Doug said.  “Sam, I oughta—"

               “No, Ah’m tellin’ you you’re a mutie because you tested outta AP Spanish, French and German, speak fluent Yoruba, and you’re buildin’ your own programmin’ code.  You got a super-brain.”  Sam said.  “You’re a mutant.  …Ah’m a mutant, too.  So’s Kitty.  So’s everybody up at the school.  That’s what the ‘gifted’ stands for.  It’s a school for mutants.”

               Doug paused, and a light went on behind his eyes.  “…A lot of things just clicked into place.  I’m going to _kill Kitty_.”

               “We had orders not to tell you.”  Sam said.  “Your powers are so mild Professor Xavier figured we’d keep a weather eye on you from afar… but now we got no choice.  See, this alien… we don’t think it’s evil, Doug.  We think it’s dyin’, an’ it’s lookin’ for something… but we don’t know how to help it.  You’re our last, best shot.  If you can figure out how to communicate with it, we can help it – an’ stop it from destroyin’ the house or hurtin’ anyone.”

               Doug stopped.  “Okay.  I grok you, Sam.”

               “Oh, thank the lord.”  Sam said.  “…But Ah’m gonna have to carry ya.”

               “And I changed my mind again.”  Doug said, shaking his head.

               Sam scowled.  “Not funny.”  He bent, and scooped Doug up.  “Hang on.  We’ll be there in a tick.”

               “Whoop!”  Doug looked up at Sam.  “There’s something I’m not putting together here…”  Flames bloomed to life around Sam’s legs, and he shot into the air like a rocket.  “…GuthRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE~”

_The Present:_

               “My parents were about to ground me for the rest of the summer,”  Doug said.  “Until Professor Xavier called and ‘explained’ that you guys had spilled the beans that I’d been picked to attend the school based on my grades and were throwing me a party to celebrate.”  He watched the road.   “…It was nice of him to get me off the hook.”

               “…Was one hell of a night.”  Sam said.  He continued to look out the window as the sky began to pinken with the oncoming sunset.  “…I try not to waste too much time bein’ nostalgic Doug… but I’m really feelin’ it now.”

               Doug thought about this for a time, and then said, “Well… it wasn’t all good for me.  I was frustrated a lot – couldn’t keep up, didn’t always feel useful.”

               Sam snorted.  “You an’ your impostor syndrome.”

               Doug threw back his head and laughed.  “Ha!  That’s pretty much it, isn’t it?”  He paused, and then grabbed his phone, thumbing through it with one hand.  “Hey Senior –”

               Sam looked back from the window and pushed himself up.  “…Yeah, Junior?”

               “…What’s your intellectual opinion on the beat?”  Doug asked, a grin slowly crossing his face.

               The corner of Sam’s mouth turned up.  “Can’t stop!”

               “Can’t stop!”  Doug echoed.

               “Can’t stop the beat!  I _Won’t_ stop!” Sam called.

               “Won’t stop!”  Doug replied. 

               “I won’t stop the beat, GO!”  Sam called, as they shot down the road.

               “Oooh everybody move your feet and feel united, whooo-aaaah-ooooh!”  Doug sang, as the car raced down the highway and into the sunset.

               Later, after the sun had gone down, Sam sat back and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Hey Dougie, I’m hungry, an’ I should probably drive for awhile.  Let’s pull over.”  The car slowed to a halt, and Sam got out, before he said, “Where the heck are we, anyway?”

               “On a forsaken stretch of North Florida backroad between highways.”  Doug said.  “Beats the hell out of the interstate for character.”  He pulled a cooler out of the backseat and tossed Sam a sandwich.  “Feeling down again?”

               Sam caught it, and then nodded.  “Yeah.  You know… I _like_ bein’ a family man, Dougie.  Comin’ home to the wife an’ the kid.  It just… it made me happy.”

               “You’ve always kind of had a foot in each world.”  Doug said, as he unwrapped a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  “You’re an adventurer at heart, always looking out at the horizon… but your ties to family are strong.  You want something to come home to, maybe?  Someone to tell the story to.”

               “Yeah.”  Sam muttered.  “Always been somethin’ Tookish in me I guess.”  He took a bite of his sandwich, and said “But with Izzy an’ Joshie gone it’s like a lump of ice in my guts.  I’m always thinkin’ bout ‘em, worryin’… can’t relax, can’t sleep, I can barely eat—”

               Doug looked down, and then licked the corner of his bottom lip.  “…I might have something that can help.”  He sighed, and dug into his pocket, and pulled out a small, tightly-wrapped packet.

               Sam eyed the packet, and crossed his arms.  “…Reefer?  Doug, I’m surprised at you.”

               “I have a prescription for it!”  Doug said, his voice growing defensive, before he rubbed the back of his neck.  “…Technically.  Sometimes my powers make me a little… overstimulated.  Too much information input.  I talked to Dr. Rao, and she told me that there were a whole bunch of pills I could try to see if they helped… orrrrrrr… I could smoke a little bit of pot.  You know.  When I needed to take the edge off.  I’ll just throw it in the weeds—"

               Sam tilted his head.  “You _do_ remember where I’m from, right?  We didn’t grow ganja… but a lot of people we knew did.  The shine, the vine or the mine…”  He uncrossed his arms.  “Daddy picked the mine.  But I ain’t a stranger to it.  You’d run across somebody’s patch all the time out in the woods.  It’s harmless… if you got a moment to be lazy an’ stupid, which we really didn’t.”  Sam looked up at the stars.  “…Guess I got a moment now.”  He sat on the hood of the car.  “Got a lighter?”

               A little while later, Sam and Doug laid side by side on the hood of the car, looking up at the stars.  “You were right.”  Sam said.  “I do feel better.  At least for right now.  Course… that’s the ganja.  But I’ll take it.  It’s still there, Dougie, but I can think around it.   Boy, the stars sure are pretty.  There are Shi’ar colonies there, there… and they use a planet orbitin’ that star right there as a garbage dump.”  Sam pointed.

               “Classy.”  Doug said.

               After a time, Sam turned his head to look at Doug.  “…Heh.  I just thought of Yoda, lookin’ at you.  ‘This one a long time have I watched.  All his life he has looked away.  To the future.  To the horizon.  Never his mind on _where he was!  What he was doing!_ ’”

               “Adventure!  Bah!”  Doug said.  “Excitement!  BAH!  …A Jedi craves not these things!”  He put his hands behind his head.

               “You know,”  Sam said, “…When I was a little guy – Josh… Jay had just come along an’ I guess I was bein’ a little pain about it – I don’t remember so well.  But my daddy, he put me in the truck and took me all the way to Lexington so we could spend some time together, just him an’ me.  The big city, y’know.  Biggest place I ever saw… never knew there were so many people.  But he took me to a movie theater’ showin’ _Star Wars_.  All three of ‘em.  I’d never seen anything like it… It changed the way I looked at the world.  From then on I started readin’ anything I could get my hands on, ‘specially Science Fiction—Daddy told me that if those movies lit a fire in me to walk outta the Holler someday an’ see the world, it was worth every penny he spent.  He got me this little thing.  A challenge coin, you know?  You saw it once an’ said it was neat.  Didn’t think anything more of it at the time.”

               Doug said, “I honestly don’t remember you showing me that coin.”

               “It was just a glance.”  Sam said.  “I kinda kept it put up, along with the other mementos of my pa.  Just personal stuff, you know?  But anyway… the day of your funeral, this wild thought crossed my mind.”

 _The End of a Lifetime Ago_ :

               “…Would it be all right if Ah was alone for just a minute?”  Sam said.  “Ah’d like to say a last goodbye.  Maybe say a prayer.”

               Magneto let out a defeated sigh, and then nodded.  “Okay, Sam.  Take all the time you need.”  He left the room, and then closed the door behind him.

               Sam sat in the parlor, and felt the stillness around him.  He studied the coffin with its viewing window, and then laid his hand on its polished surface.  “You know, Doug… I thought maybe this’d be easier.  I made it through buryin’ pa—but it ain’t.  It ain’t easy at all!”  He squeezed his eyes shut, stemming the flow of tears.  “Why’d you have to go an’ be a hero, boy!?”  Then Sam laughed.  “Heh.  I know why… ‘cause it wasn’t in you to be anything else.  Save the world?  Pshaw.  Eat a bullet?  Whatever.  An’ still thinkin’ you didn’t have the stuff.  Listen.  Ah asked Pa to take care of you… he ain’t never let me down.  Ever.  But Ah got one last thing to send you off with.” 

               Sam looked around, and then reached down and opened the coffin.  He studied the recumbent body, cloaked in shadow. 

Then Sam reached into his pocket, and took out the winking gold coin, and slipped it into the pocket of Doug’s suit.  “This ain’t my usual prayer, but this one’s just for you an’ me Doug – ‘For my ally is the Force, an’ a powerful ally it is!  Life creates it – makes it grow!   Its energy surrounds us, an’ binds us!  Luminous beings are we… not this…”  Sam’s voice hitched, before he went on.  “…Not this crude matter.  You must feel the Force around you!  Here!  Between you, me, the tree, the rock… everywhere.”  Sam closed the lid on the coffin.  “Goodbye, Junior.  ‘Till we meet again.”

 _The Current Lifetime_ :

               Doug considered Sam’s story, dry-eyed and thoughtful.  “I didn’t know I meant so much to you, man—”

               Sam laughed.  “In some ways you an’ I had more in common than Bobby an’ I.  An’ we had good times… didn’t we, Junior?  I mean I had to set a good example, but…”

               Doug grinned.  “Senior… you were the older brother I never had.  If I pushed back against you, it was just little bro trying to show that he could hold his own.  That’s all.”

               “Yeah well… I fuss.  It’s what I do.  An’ one day Joshie an’ I’ll… be at loggerheads…”  Sam quieted.  “I miss him Doug.  I miss him _like crazy_.  Last time I missed a person so much was… well, after you died.  An’ Joshie ain’t even dead—it just feels the same.  Anyway… that challenge coin’s long gone now, probably buried under six feet of mud.”

               Doug looked up, and then silently dug out his wallet.  He opened it up, and withdrew the coin with two fingers. It glinted gold in the starlight.   “…Not necessarily.”

               Sam sat bolt-upright, and looked at the coin.  “No way!  …I can’t believe it—”

               Doug nonchalantly flipped it to him, and Sam caught it with both hands.  “…And that is why you fail.  When I was revived by Bard, it was in the pocket of my coat.  Somewhere deep in what passed for my mind, I knew it was someone telling me something – so when they gave me new clothes I jammed it into my pocket and kept it.  After you all brought me back… I didn’t know whose it was, but objectively, I knew someone had given it to me.  And… well—now I know.  You gave it to me, buddy… and it served its purpose.  Now I’m giving it back.  Give it to Joshie.”

               Sam tucked the coin away.  “Sumbitch, Ramsey, you are something else.  You know—I feel better.  Also, that reefer’s got me starvin’.  Now I remember why I don’t touch the filthy stuff… makes me hungry as a damn bear.”  He slid off the hood, and went to pull out the cooler and dig through it.  “We’ll have to chill out here for a lil’ bit till this high burns off, before we can hit the road anyway.”

               “…You know what, Sam?”  Doug said, dropping to the ground to join him, “…It makes me crazy hungry, too.  Pass the cookies.”

               After they had gotten back on the road for a time, Sam leaned back in the driver’s seat.  “So,”  he said, “…You and Illyana, huh?  Anything happening on that front?”

               Doug shook his head.  “I don’t know.  We’ve barely seen each other.  I was in the U.K., and then Kitty sent me to Singapore, and Illyana’s got jobs Kitty’s put her on… besides, I think it might’ve been just a one-night stand.  We haven’t said word one to each other in weeks.”

               Sam snorted, and then said, “Now that doesn’t sound like the Doug Ramsey I know.  Time was you were the only guy who could actually lay a friendly touch on Illyana without riskin’ pullin’ back a stump.”  He grinned, briefly.  “Sure, she’d let you know when she’d had enough, but it’s more’n I or Bobby could ever do.  So why are you just lettin’ it lie?”

               “I don’t really have a lot of experience dating.”  Doug said.  “I mean I tried using Tinder once… I came across this profile for a ‘Donna Saur’, the profile picture was for a velociraptor wearing eye shadow and a glitter wig.  It made me laugh, so I jumped for it—”

               “…It was an actual dinosaur, wasn’t it.”  Sam said.

               “It was an actual dinosaur.”  Doug affirmed.  “And her job actually was ‘testing physical security systems for weaknesses’!”

               Sam began to laugh, aloud.  “Oh, jeez, Doug, sometimes you’re just such a _hapless_ fella.”

               “Thanks,”  Doug said, his tone frosty.

               “Hey!  That ain’t a knock, it’s part of your charm.  You know, I think Illyana likes a guy who’s a little puppyish and earnest sometimes.”  Sam composed himself.  “You should ask her out, on a _real_ date, not the kind of date where you’re both ridin’ an adrenaline spike from fightin’ monsters all night and she just saw her friend almost get killed _again_ – for her sake.  I think it rattled her more than she'd ever let on.”

               “…There’s another kind of date?”  Doug asked.  “I don’t know.  It just… it all happened so _suddenly_ , you know?  I was…”

               “You were exhausted.  You hurt all over.  You just wanted to lie there an’ sleep.  An’ then all of a sudden, there she is—”

               “Her eyes glow in the dark a little bit.”  Doug murmured.  “And somehow no matter what she’s been doing her hair’s always perfect and as straight as a pin.”

               “Ha!  It’s always the odd details that get your attention when you really like someone.  So the two of you got to talkin’, and she made the offer—”  Sam looked over to Doug, who shrugged and nodded, “An’ all the pain an’ all the dog-tired came in a distant second to lettin’ the moment run away with you.”  He let out a short ‘heh’.  “Congratulations, Doug, you’re a fully-functional guy.  The question is, bein’ a chivalrous sort of guy, and having admitted to yourself an’ interest that goes beyond one steamy night, what’re you gonna do next?”  He looked back out at the road ahead of him.  “That’s on you, Junior.  You aren’t fifteen anymore, an’ neither is she.  It takes two to tango, and she ain’t the type to wait, so… you better get goin’ after it.”

               “I guess so.”  Doug said, his chin in his hand.  “And if it doesn’t work out, we’re still close friends.  …Right?”

               “Attaboy.”  Sam said.  “Faint heart never won fair lady, and nobody who knows you’d accuse you of havin’ a faint heart, Dougie.”

               “So, what about you?”  Doug said.  “Are you just going to let Izzy leave without having a real conversation, first?”

               Sam drew in a deep breath, and tightened his hands on the wheel.  “No.” he said, “No, Dougie, _I am not_.”  He hit the steering wheel with one hand, and then straightened up, before he resumed driving.


	2. Don't you forget about me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug and Sam reach the convention, but now they have to stop a sinister villain from turning back the clock. It's Cypher and Cannonball... vs EIGHTIES ANNIE!

               Doug stepped out onto the concourse of the convention center and looked around.  Slowly, he stretched, taking in the whirl of movement and noise around him, the language of costumes and the dissonant chatter.  “It’s chaos.”  He says.  “But chaos full of purpose.”

               Sam put his hands on his hips next to him.  “Well our purpose in this chaos is to get to the Creator’s Concourse.”  He shook his brochure.

               They set off together, picking their way through the crowd, before emerging on the other side.  “Safe and sound,”  Sam said, “Except that some clown dressed like Deadpool grabbed my rear.”

               “Bye, Cannonballs!”  A voice called from the crowd.

               Doug looked up at Sam, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.  “…Movin’ right along.”

               “Yup.”  Sam said, his expression flat.

               A little while later, as the two browsed the concourse, Sam studied the map.  “…Chris Claremont.  Did he do the comic about the super-heroes in the future?”

               “No, no, he wrote the Transmorphers comic book series.  You know, ‘Androids Hidden In Plain Sight’.” Doug said.

               Sam wrinkled his nose.  “Skip it.”  He said, “…That book was too dark for me.  Hey, didn’t you want to get your Bill Sienkiewicz artbook signed?”

               “Oh, yeah!”  Doug said, “He’s over here.”  He pointed.

               Still later, the two of them stopped.  Sam shifted a plastic bag full of books.  “…Got more time to read now, I guess,” he mused.  Then he looked up.  “Hey.  It’s a Breakfast Club cast reunion.”

               Doug grimaced and stuck his tongue out.  “Skip it.  Blackballed!”

               Sam gave a little grin.  “Junior, after all these years, are you still mad that we used to tease you by callin’ you—”

               “DON’T say the name.”  Doug said, holding up a hand.  Sam opened his mouth, and Doug snap-pointed at him.  “No.”

               Sam closed his mouth, and then rocked backward on his heels, and then looked upward.  “…Anthony Michael Hall.”

               Doug’s expression twisted into a grimace.

               “Come on, we didn’t mean anything by it!”  Sam said, laughing helplessly.

               “It was a mean-spirited way of calling me the ur-dork!”  Doug said, giving Sam the side-eye.  “…And it wasn’t funny.”

               “Well it was a little funny.”  Sam said, looking upward.  “It wouldn’t have been so funny if it didn’t make you so mad.”  He shifted his bag, and clapped Doug on the shoulder.  “Hey.  Cheer up, little buddy.  I’m havin’ a great time.”

               Doug tilted his head at Sam, and then his expression softened.  “You are,” he agreed, “and that’s why we’re here.”

               Then a muffled explosion rocked the room.  Sam looked up, abruptly, as Doug whirled around.  “What the-“ Sam said, straightening up.

               “Ahahahahaha!”  A woman said, stepping over rubble as convention-goers scattered before her.  She was wearing fingerless black-leather gloves, a black business suit with shoulderpads, and her hair was a massive, frizzy construction.  Henchmen dressed in white button-down shirts with black slacks and overalls flanked either side of her.  “Ladies and gentlemen of the convention, I am EIGHTIES ANNIE!”

               She pointed, “And I am HERE for the cast of the Breakfast Club!  Surrender them to me, and nobody gets hurt!”

               “… _What_.” Doug said, his eyebrows going up toward his hairline.

               Sam sucked in a deep breath, and then snorted, before he doubled over in laugher. “And wh… hahahaha… what’re you… hahahaha… gonna do with them?”

               “I’m going to drain their power and use it to resurrect John Hughes, and the 1980s WITH HIM!”  Eighties Annie retorted, her lip curling in a snarl.

               Sam and Doug looked at each other, and then collapsed against one another in laughter.

               Eighties Annie set her jaw, and then crossed her arms, before she tapped her foot.

               Doug roused himself, and then walked over to her, his hands held up in a conciliatory fashion.  “…Look.  I can tell that you’re serious, but surely there’s a better way to relive the 80s, like sitting at home with a bowl of popcorn and watching _Pretty in Pink_.”  He gave her a conciliatory look.

               Eighties Annie looked down at Doug, and then reached into her bag and withdrew an aerosol spray can, before she gave it a swift shake and then sprayed it into his eyes.

               Doug howled, and stepped backward, rubbing at his eyes, and Sam caught him.  “Hey!  HEY!”  He said to Eighties Annie, “NOT okay, lady!”  He looked down at Doug, who looked up at him through weepy red eyes.  “She maced ya, buddy.  You’re gonna be fine.”

               “Sam,”  Doug said, “That wasn’t mace.  It was White Rain.  She got me in the eyes with _a can of hairspray_!”

               Sam’s mouth twisted, as he tried to hold back a smile.  “…I didn’t even know they made that anymore.”  He lowered Doug to the ground.  “Stay here.  I’m gonna deal with her.”  Then he stood up.  “Okay lady, you’re gonna get it now.”  Fire flared around his feet and crawled up his waist, before he rocketed forward and into the air.

               Doug crawled away, and then a hand gripped his arm, lifting him.  “Here,” a voice said, “let me help you up.  Open your eyes.”  A moment later, cold water dribbled into his eyes, and he blinked, slowly.

               He was being held up by a fifty year old man, gone thick in the middle, but with curly gray hair and a faintly impish grin.  “Better?”

               “…Anthony Michael Hall.”  Doug said, blinking and scowling.  “Great.  Much, thank you.”  He pulled his arm away.  “Excuse me, I gotta go help my friend.”

               “Hey!” Anthony called, “…What’s the problem?”

               Doug paused, and then turned around.  “…When I was a kid, my friends used to tease me by comparing me to you.”

               “Ah.”  Anthony said.  “You’re a nerd, a dork, a geek… right?  A helpless idiot pulling wild takes?”

               “So I’ve been told,”  Doug said, his tone frosty.

               “Well, cheer up.”  Anthony said.  “Just remember… I’m the one who got to date Molly Ringwald in real life.  Whatever your friends are like, there’s worse things to be than the Anthony Michael Hall of the group… right?”  He grinned.

               Doug paused, and his expression softened.  “…Johnny Be Good was the worst movie I’ve ever seen.”

               “Yeah, it was awful.  But the Porsche it bought me _kicked ass_.”  Anthony said.

               On the other side of the concourse, Sam crashed into a stand of comic books, and went sprawling.  Nearby, Eighties Annie held up a device flashing a rapidly shifting spectrum of multicolored lights.  “Ha!  Feel the power of my New Wave Pulse Generator!”

               Sam pushed himself up, and then fell onto his side, as the world spun around him.  “Oh, _lordy_.  I’m gonna hurl.”

               “Hey there, friendo,” an old man said, kneeling down, and adjusting his thick glasses.  He had a gray moustache going to white, and a wide Cheshire grin.  “You look like you’re in a rough spot.”

               Sam groaned, in reply. 

               “Hey.”  The old man said, before he gripped Sam gently, and helped him up.  “Do you know why Cannonball is a great X-Man?”

               Sam looked up, and blinked.  “Wha…”

               “Because even though he crashes harder than anybody else on his team, he always gets back up, and he always blazes a trail for his friends and family to follow.”  The old man stood Sam up, and brushed him off.  “You get back up, Sam.  It’s what you were made to do.”  Then he winked.  “Excelsior!”

               “Sam!”  Doug called, approaching.  “Over here!”

               “Doug, hold on a minute.”  Sam said, “We gotta get this old guy here outta-“ He turned, and the old man was gone.  “…Where’d he go?”

               Doug rubbed the back of his neck.  “What old man, Sam?  There was never anybody there.”

               “…I swear there was, Doug.  An’ I feel like I met him before, somewhere.”  Sam shook himself out.  “What happened to you?”

               “I got a helping hand and a pep-talk from Anthony Michael Hall.”  Doug murmured, sheepishly.

               “Well don’t that beat all.”  Sam ran his fingers through his hair and pulled Doug to his feet.  “Anyway how’re we gonna stop this lady.  I heard her tellin’ the Thompson Twins that she’s got all the powers of the 1980s.  The strength of the Ultimate Warrior, the analytical mind of Jessica Fletcher…”

               “I mean, Tina Turner’s live performance of ‘Proud Mary’ in 1982 is the best song ever.”  Doug said, looking around the room at overturned comic book racks and smashed booths.  “But you can’t resurrect the past.  There’s no turning the clock back to like… 1983 here, no matter what some comic book writers think.”

               “Ouch.”  Sam said, before he gave Doug a light shove.  “Wait.  I have an idea.”  He stroked his chin, thoughtfully.  “If she has all the powers of the 1980s, then she’s gotta have a weakness, right?”

               Doug put his foot up on a toppled display of Airwolf memorabilia.  “Something where being exposed to it would represent the end of everything she stands for.  Like Kryptonite, except with a harsher repudiation of suits with shoulder pads and big hair.”

               Sam struck his forehead with a palm.  “If it was a snake it woulda _bit_ me.”  He elbowed Doug.  “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

               An hour later, Annie looked up, from where she had strapped most of the Brat Pack to a hastily reassembled metal scaffolding, arranged in a circle around a coffin.

               “…Is that…?”  Judd Nelson said, with a sideways glance to Ally Sheedy.

               “Lady,”  Molly Ringwald said, “This is _messed up._ ”

               “Don’t you understand what I’m DOING?”  Annie said, as she fiddled with an Amiga computer, “I’m bringing back the era when all of you ruled the world!  Everything you had then, you’ll have back!  It’ll be just like it was in _Pretty in Pink_ and _Sixteen Candles_ , forever!”  Then she glanced around.  “As soon as my henchmen find Anthony… I can’t do Weird Science without him!”

               “You’re acting like we haven’t had careers since then!”  Molly said, pulling at her bonds.  “I’ve acted in France!  I’m a regular on _Riverdale_!”

               “But you’re not the _star_ , Molly,”  Annie said, glaring.  “And what about poor Judd, here?  What about _his_ career?”

               Everyone else turned to look at Judd Nelson, who scowled.  “I’m a WRITER.  And I’ve been doing a lot of voice acting, which is a pretty sweet gig!”

               “Oh shut up Judd, you know it’s not.”  Annie said, as she powered up her device.  “Test run in three, two—”

               “Stop right there!”  Anthony Michael Hall called, from across the floor.  “These two have something they want to say to you.”  He held up his phone, as Sam and Doug stepped out from around a fallen booth.  They had traded out their clothes for t-shirts in muted colors, worn jeans with holes at the knees, and chuck taylors, with flannel shirts knotted around their waists.  As they advanced, the opening chords of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” began to  come from the phone.

               Annie looked up, with dawning horror, as the 1990s came for her.

               Later, Doug looked on as con staff began clearing the rubble.  He popped open a Tab that he’d swiped from Annie’s stash, and glanced over to Sam.  “…How’re you feeling?”

               “Well we saved the day an’ got the autographs of everyone in the Breakfast Club.”  Sam flipped a copy of his Blu-Ray up and caught it.  “So situationally… pretty good.  You?”

               Doug glanced at his autographed Weird Science poster.  “I am… reflective.”  The autograph on it said _Doug, just remember… you have a fan – Anthony Michael Hall_.

               Sam smirked.  “It was never meant to be an insult, ya know.”  Then he ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed.  “Hey.  Would you be okay to drive back to Miami by yourself?  There’s somethin’ I’ve gotta go and do.”

               Doug glanced back up to Sam.  “…May the Force be with you, Senior.  I really hope you and Izzy can work it out.”

               Sam gave Doug a squeeze on the shoulder.  “Thanks, buddy.  …Hey, listen.  I know you’ve had it rough, but you’re gonna be okay, okay?  An’ when you’re with us, it’s okay to just _be_ , you know?  You’ve got nothin’ to prove to us.  We know what you’ve got inside.”

               Doug grinned.  “And you don’t always have to be the man in charge, bottle rocket.  I heard how you were goofing off with Bobby when you two were on the Avengers’ roster.”

               Sam exhaled, and rested his elbows on his knees.  “…It did feel great just to take orders an’ clown around for a little bit.”  Then he glanced up.  “Hey.  I love you, Doug Ramsey.  As far as I’m concerned, you’re one of my brothers.”  He touseled Doug’s hair.  “My nerdy, yankee brother.”

               Doug laughed, and batted Sam’s hand away.

* * *

 

               _Elsewhere, later:_

               Bobby looked up, as he toweled his hair dry.  “I’ve taken three showers.  I still have that gel in my ears.”  Nearby, his phone buzzed, and he picked it up.  He swiped it open, and grinned, at an image of Sam and Doug, with the assembled cast of _The Breakfast Club_.  Sam had Doug over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and both were mugging for the camera, as Molly Ringwald kissed Sam on the cheek.  The text message with the photo read, _‘Wish you were here, hot-shot’_

               Bobby grinned, slowly.  “Now that is what I like to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been away for awhile! Life being what it is, sometimes I don't have the energy to write that I'd like, but this morning I decided I'd push the rest of this out, since leaving it half-done had been weighing on my mind for awhile.
> 
> I'm not 100% comfortable using real people in a story, but the joke had been pretty much cemented in my head, and I couldn't really do Annie without it.
> 
> As always, thoughts and suggestions about who the next team-up should be with are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This one's a two-parter! Though it's mostly forgotten about these days, one of Sam's formational character traits is that he's a voracious reader and Sci-Fi fan, and so is Doug -- it only made sense for it to be a common point of connection between the two of them. The flashback is from when Doug first joined the team officially, way back in the 80s. After Warlock invaded the house, Sam flew off to fetch Doug -- and he'd just gone skinny-dipping, and it sure didn't seem like he swung around to the mansion to throw on a pair of pants...


End file.
